Firefly Glen because you feel like a heartbeat

Silver traced his features as her gaze found him, calculation in those seelie eyes as the druid considered his tentative words. "Ye do nae soun' certain," Fen murmured curiously, wondering if there was something amiss with these Nightwalkers he spoke of. 

"Are ye 'appy zere?" the girl lilted hesitantly as they strolled, pace slow and dragging - focus centered upon the conversation. 

"Ah," she exhaled wispily as she spotted a few strands of goldenrod creeping along the trunk of a tree. 

"Zis vill do nicely," the midwife commented, mainly to herself, as she stepped up to the tree and examined the garlands of yellow flowers with a keen eye. Choosing a particular vine, she began chewing at it with delicate little nibbles.